


The Clockwork Seduction

by bowie_queen



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dark, Dark Jareth (Labyrinth), Dark Sarah, F/M, Insanity, Possessive Jareth (Labyrinth), ambiguous death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowie_queen/pseuds/bowie_queen
Summary: When asked for a dance, Sarah should have been more mindful of her words.Especially when faced with the one creature who won't let her go.After all, there are only so many times Jareth will let her say no to being his wife for eternity.Inspired by Smollot's drawing of Jareth holding Sarah trapped within her music box.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 18
Kudos: 64





	The Clockwork Seduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BustedBrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BustedBrain/gifts).



> This piece was inspired by Smollot's art in LFFL. A truly amazing piece that I couldn't get out of my mind so I just had to write this. 
> 
> Dark Jareth is not my usual cup of tea, so I hope I did justice to this. 
> 
> I have gifted it to the incomparable BustedBrain who begged me to write a Dark fic. I hope she is pleased with it. Also, happy antipodean birthday today and happy Canadian birthday tomorrow. 
> 
> Also thanks go to my husband who read over this for me and assures me it is creepy.

**The Clockwork Seduction**

Whirring, ticking, clicking, grinding and the constant hum of the melody accompanied the mechanical dance. The contrivance was admirable for its day. The engineering and ingenuity was to be praised. 

The music: soothing, bittersweet and nostalgic, ensnared a listener's auditory perceptions. 

But it was the figure in the centre: twirling in a monotonous circle that entrapped the viewer. Attention to detail was not spared to the young girl on the inside of her pink and gold cage. Her green eyes glimmered with hope and her white dress promised her purity and innocence. 

On closer inspection, it was always hard to tell if her face presented a smile of wonderment or a scowl of despair. 

Once upon a time, it may have been a smile borne of romance and lust. As time wore on, it became a smile fueled by anger and injustice. 

* * *

  
  
  


The last box lay waiting; it's cardboard doors hoping to trap all its treasures within. 

The last thing to go into the packing container was her music box. The little figure had faded with age and was quite clogged with dust. Sarah wiped a finger over the delicate glass and the painted metal of her music box. 

"If only you could still dance." 

Sarah didn't know why she held onto the glass box. She should have thrown it out with all the rest of her childhood memories. She turned the key, grinding metal against metal. She prodded the dancer with her forefinger. It resisted her efforts with a whirr. 

The jammed up gears meant the dancer would stir but then jerk and jar in the one spot before sputtering to a standstill. No longer the slow, ambling spin of its youth. The music was tinny and flat like the notes were pushing up through rusted metal and a deluge of water before reaching her ears. 

She was about to place it in the box when she felt a presence behind her. 

"She could still dance, Sarah." 

_ His _ voice! His seductive baritone rippled through the air. It always had her skin crawling and her loins aflame. Sarah was certain the danger and arousal parts of her brain were indistinguishable. She stood slowly, clutching her music box to her chest as she turned. 

_ He _ stood there with his eyes boring into her and his hands twitching against his folded arms. Inexplicably, he was stark naked save for a cloak of midnight attached to a collar around his neck. Sarah brought her eyes up to that collar —etched with his crescent-shaped symbol—to avoid looking anywhere else. 

"Would you like to see her dance again?" 

"I am sure I could find a clockmaker who would be able to fix her," Sarah reasoned. "One that is fully clothed." 

"Does my nudity offend you, Sarah?" His tone was light. In a darker tone, he added, "Or does it excite you?" 

"It astounds me," Sarah blurted out before she thought better of it. "Why are you here?"

"I felt you were due a visit." 

"Naked?"

"As you've noticed." He pushed his cloak backwards with his arms to place his hands on his hips, drawing attention to his generous nudity. 

"Right, well I have to go, so…"

"Dance with me."

Temptation washed over her. 

Over the years he had appeared for these impromptu visits. He would always ask her to go back with him; she would always say no. He would leave without a word, only to randomly turn up again at some later date, and repeat the same words. 

_ "Come back with me."  _

This time, however, his request to dance with her was slightly more palatable than a request to go back with him. 

"OK." 

She placed the music box on top of the nearest surface and stepped closer to Jareth. 

He twirled a finger to make the music box play. Sarah gasped as the figure started on her circular journey as if she had never been broken. The tinny, mechanical notes smoothed out as she spun, to a seamless and less disjointed symphony. 

Jareth was at her side in two short strides. "She dances again." 

Sarah felt his arms wrap around her, leading her into step as he moved her around her bedroom. 

"Why are you naked?" she asked as he twirled her in time to the music 

"I am more comfortable this way." 

"Ah, but I am not." 

"Then I shall fix it." 

He weaved a crystal into his hand and then threw it into the air. As it descended Sarah felt the tingle of magic envelop her. She looked down and Jareth was very much still naked, but she was now wearing a replica of the dress from her music box; except for the lines and the cut were more suited for her adult body and tastes. 

"Is that more comfortable?" 

"Than jeans and a tee?" Sarah scoffed. "Not at all, and you're still naked." 

"I am." 

"You are confident, I give you that." 

Sarah assumed his turning up naked was a mating ritual his kind utilised; a tactic to show potential mates what they had to look forward to. Sarah would be lying if she said it wasn't somewhat successful. He had already engaged in some bizarre—to her mind—tactics in the past, such as the time he scattered feathers, beads, gems, shells, berries and flowers all over her windowsill. Or the time he left dead rodents impaled on sharp sticks in her garden. 

Sarah found that despite his nudity, she was soon resting her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it accompanied her music box. His scent was clouding her mind, making it seem as if they were flying through clouds and rainbows rather than her squashed bedroom floor between packing boxes and rubbish bags. 

"Am I a good dancer, Sarah?" he asked, rubbing his thumb along the exposed flesh of her back. "Is this  _ real _ dance to your liking?" 

"Mmm," she agreed. "I could dance like this forever—" She bit her tongue and cursed in her mind. After all, words had meaning with him. 

Thankfully, he didn't respond. 

They danced in silence for a while longer until Jareth pulled her tight and whispered into her ear, "Come back with me." 

"No." 

The music box ground to a halt and Sarah watched as the figurine disintegrated within her glass enclosure. 

She peered back at Jareth who remained passive as he watched her. 

"Such a pity." 

Sarah huffed and strode over to the music box with the intent of putting it into the packing crate. The dust from the figurine started to trip and sway within the confines of the glass box. 

"It needs a new dancer," he observed. 

It was a simple sentence that ought not to have been ominous. Sarah's fingers hesitated a hair's breadth away from the gilded ornament. 

"I ask for the final time, Sarah." She watched as he lit a cigarette—goodness knows where he kept them on his nude form— and went slightly in and out of focus as he magicked clothing onto his body. For some odd reason, seeing him dressed and smoking was more obscene than his nudity. "Come back with me." 

"I can't." Sarah reached out for the music box and as soon as she touched the metal bars, she knew it had been a mistake. The dust whirlwind inside stopped its pirouette as if frozen in time. The tingle of magic raced up her fingertips. Her green eyes darted up to his cold blue ones. They remained unmoved by her current predicament. 

"Such a pity." He exhaled a puff of smoke that curled around the top of the music box. Sarah watched as the smoke settled like fog around the peaked spires. 

Magic coursed through her body, turning flesh into rigid plastic. Atom by atom she was shrinking, hardening and being drawn within the cage her hand rested upon. 

"Stop it," she cried, her voice hoarse and her tears brittle. 

"You could have come back with me as my Queen." 

Sarah let out an anguished scream of pain as her body contracted and convulsed. Her vision was blurred, but she could see that he remained complacent and passive as he smoked and watched. 

Nausea welled up as her bones shattered and reformed within her. Her skin rippled and ruched before splitting and ripping from her body. She expected to see blood but looking down she saw her dress was white and pristine as ever. 

Scales were forming over her skin that meshed together, forming bigger scales until she couldn't move her limbs under their solid, restrictive casing. Splinters of pain laced through her veins, turning them into polymer. 

Before long, it was over; the pain vanished as if it never existed. She saw the world as a dancer-figurine within a music box. Her voice was stripped from her. She was  _ the _ dancer. She knew then with certainty that he intended to let her think she would dance forever. As her words had predicted.  _ Damn him. _

Her next realisation was that she couldn't move her eyes; she could only stare dead ahead. Everything was large and crude and grotesque to her new static vision. 

Except for Jareth. Even as a giant he was still numbingly beautiful. 

She still had consciousness. But no physical feeling. She couldn't move her eyes, let alone her arms, her legs or any part of her body. However, she could feel anger coursing through her consciousness. She held onto that anger as if it were her lifeline. 

She tried to pour that anger into words but her mouth remained stationary. Her thoughts and feelings barrelled around her skull, though she supposed she didn't truly have one of those either. 

"You're mine, Sarah." His voice felt like a whisper despite his great size over her mere few inches. "You could have made this easier on yourself." 

He picked up her music box with one gloved hand while he continued to smoke; the cigarette held elegantly between two fingers as he held the base of her new home with the same hand. He brought his other hand up to stroke the frame of the box. 

Jareth tilted his head as he appraised her. "You will always be mine. The choice is yours in how you wish to be with me, my love." 

Sarah didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Jareth smirked. 

"I want you forever, but I may discover I prefer you like this." He leered at her with his sharp, canines on display. "You're less defiant, more tractable and far less vocal." 

Sarah waited until the joke wore thin and he would return her to her physical self. 

In a flash of light and glitter, she was suddenly transported from her bedroom to that belonging to the Goblin King in the Underground. 

She discovered that the cruel Goblin King was not intending her plastic captivity as a prank. When he had given over to his possessiveness, her slip of the tongue in a sensual moment had sealed her fate. 

She would live this clockwork dance forever. 

* * *

  
  


And unfortunately, when one is a clockwork dancer, forever was a long time indeed. 

Each day he would wind her key to let her dance her circular course around her glass cell but she would always end her brief journey in the same spot; to see Jareth's smirk before he sauntered off. 

Like clockwork, Jareth let her out of her cage once a month in an attempt to seduce her. He never forced her but when she resisted his efforts, she was summarily locked back in her clockwork hell. 

She knew when he was coming to let her out by his midnight-blue clothing—he never wore anything else for her excursions. He never wore that outfit any other time. 

He would always lift her music box and stare inside with his sharp smile and critical eyes. Jareth would then enchant a door into the glass and she would step out onto his hand, and he would place her on his bed where she regained her full size. 

He would hold her tenderly, as she regained her senses and her bodily functions. He would whisper sweet nothings into her ear, brushing her hair with gloved hands like she was the most treasured pet, and he would press his lips to her shoulder that sent tingles through every atom of her being. 

Sarah wished she could have called them shudders of revulsion. After so long being untouched, his contact was almost welcome. Welcome, but still injecting anger into her very being. 

When she had regained her faculties, he would dance with her, singing softly about love and forever and being the Queen to his King. Sarah would let her tears flow and her anger burn. 

Having been plastic for so long, Sarah was not able to resist the dance as her legs felt like jelly, her arms were leaden and her senses were dull. Her anger was telling her to lash out, but her body would not respond. That only fuelled her anger further. 

"Be my Queen, Sarah." 

"Never." 

He would simply nod, and enchant her back into her cage. He meant to wear her down. She would not be defeated. Months turned to years of this same ritual, but still, she defied him. 

She had to watch everything from the top of his dresser. Unable to close her eyes or look away, she watched as he pleasured himself in his bed; she watched as eventually, he took lovers to bed —never the same lover more than once, but sometimes more than one at a time. 

Occasionally, he would make eye contact with her while in the throes of his passion. Sarah would have ground her teeth if she had any. She would always take the opportunity to vent her spleen when he released her from her prison on her monthly outing. As much as her energy allowed, at any rate. 

Transforming from dancer to human takes its toll on a mortal body. 

Her protests and disgust fell on deaf ears. He would just smirk and tell her, "It could be you under me, Precious. Be my Queen, Sarah." 

She would always deny him. And he would send her back to her prison. 

And on it went for time that she could no longer track. 

After a few years, the pattern changed. As they danced around his bedroom, he suggested they extend her sojourn a while to visit the gardens.

"A change of scenery," he explained. Sarah remained silent and let him lead her through the gardens. 

They may have been beautiful, but Sarah had felt nothing. The gardens were high above the Labyrinth. A younger, less prisoner-like Sarah would have died for this view. 

"You can't possibly prefer spending your life stuck in that metal box when you could be Queen of all this." He waved his hand over the scenery spread below them. 

"It's quite obvious that I would if it means being your wife." 

He had moved away from her, only to stand directly behind her moments later. 

"Why do you never beg me for your release?" He asked then, pressing his body against her back as he looked over her shoulder. 

"I don't believe you have any intention of releasing me unless I agree to marry you." 

Jareth kissed her shoulder, his teeth nipping slightly at her bare skin. "Clever girl." 

"You'd like to hear me beg, I am sure." Sarah closed her eyes as Jareth kissed and licked across the skin above her shoulder blades. 

"Do not presume to know what I would like." He had growled then, before releasing her from his lecherous hold. 

Sarah had staggered forward, catching her footing seconds before she stumbled down the embankment before them. 

"Do you think I will keep asking you to be my Queen for eternity?" He laughed darkly. "You think you are that special to me that I won't eventually grow tired of this game?" 

Sarah disappeared into her mind. She knew that if he offered her freedom right now, she couldn't go back to her life. Being a static prisoner of a callous, inhuman despot had not only caused her to lose her life but her sanity was holding on by a thread. He had well and truly trapped her in every way possible. 

The sound of singing had brought her back to reality. It was minutes before she realised she had been the one singing. Whether to drown out the Goblin King, to hold onto her reality or to display her mania, she knew not. Tears fell but she sang on. 

When she stopped, he asked her again. 

"Sarah, be my Queen. Cease this foolishness. Live with me as my own." 

"No." Her voice had never sounded more certain in her life. She had never been more certain than the other eighty times she had already answered his question. 

"Your stubbornness will be the death of you." 

"Perhaps," Sarah muttered. "And perhaps, it will be the death of you too." 

They spoke no more as he took her back to her miniature cell. 

After that day, things changed. Jareth started bringing the same lover to his bed. And Sarah, the dancer, sat on the dresser, gathering dust. Her monthly bouts of freedom seemed almost a long-forgotten memory. 

Her view out of the glass became smudged and blurry with the grease of dust and fly droppings. But she could still make out that the female he bedded was the same night after night. She was tall, graceful and absolutely exquisite. Sarah could see how easy it would be to fall for the auburn beauty. 

Sarah couldn't look away if she tried, but watching her writhe, with a practised parry and thrust, was like watching fencing or dancing — an art form. She was exquisite. 

And she soon learnt, she was Jareth's wife.

It was hard to tell how Sarah felt then. She had fluctuated between anger or numbness for years now. If her rage intensified, she knew not. She only knew that she did not regret declining him as her husband. 

And as the glass clouded further and the paint started to peel, his wife fell pregnant. She had to watch his wife give birth to twins. 

She also witnessed his wife take lovers to bed that were not Jareth. She could tell they were clandestine in nature by their harried movements and the swiftness of the lovers as they departed. 

Then, one day, without warning she found herself taken off the dresser by his wife and hurled, unceremoniously into a wooden crate. The glass cracked and she was knocked off her stand to lean askance against a fracture in the pane. 

All she could see was darkness. No light broke the solid black. Not even to offer a single shade of grey. It was impenetrable and unrelenting. 

* * *

  
  


Clocks were ticking. Gears were grinding. The click, click, click of the mechanical cogs and the whirring of the rusty music was the only company she kept. The darkness hadn't lessened as time went on. 

The claustrophobic feelings had increased. Her anger was pure molten rage. Or it was numb emptiness, devoid of any sensation. Sarah—if indeed that was her name—was a peach thrown into a river, occasionally bobbing up to the surface, but mostly sucked down and drowning in the rapids. 

When she wasn't focused on plotting revenge, she was daydreaming about being a wee green caterpillar trapped in the peach; instead of being the fruit itself. She saw herself swimming away from the peach to open waters where she could morph into the butterfly and fly away. 

Only, more often than not she would get buffeted by the wind and end up caught in the slipstream of a large pale moth. The moth and the butterfly seemed to dance upon the gusts like she once did with the Goblin King. 

She could barely remember her name but she held his name close to her mind at all times.  _ Jareth _ . She was starting to forget why, but she hated him. She wished him dead. She saw his odd blue eyes reflected in the moth she danced with. His blonde hair matched that of the tufts of feathery whiskers adorning the moth. She hated the moth. With every fibre of her being, she beat her wings against that infuriating winged insect until his white body was dashed upon the rocks below; his wings tattered and torn against the granite. 

* * *

  
  
  


For one glorious moment, she imagined she saw light. It wasn't a white light, but a smudge of grey. There were voices. High, sweet voices that laughed and exclaimed and hollered shouts of discovery. 

And then there was white light. Brightness evaporated everything around her. The darkness had been defeated. Vanquished. Killed. 

It took a few agonising moments for Sarah's painted eyes to see the figure peering down at her. She saw blonde hair and blue eyes. 

It was him. The hateful Goblin King—

"Look what I've found," a youthful and feminine voice cried out. 

It wasn't him.

It was a younger, more female person. She was joined by an identical-looking blonde female, with blue eyes blinking at her sister's discovery. 

_ Twins _ , Sarah concluded. Possibly, Jareth's twins. She thought back to watching his wife in labour. She was pretty sure he had twins. How long was she in that box to now see them as older children before her? 

They lifted her out of the box, wiping a cloth over the shards of glass that remained intact. The glare from the grime diminished and she could see again. 

"Oh, isn't she pretty?" one of them asked. "She would be perfect to practice on." 

What they were planning to practice on soon became apparent as they hurled crystal balls at her. She felt herself shift like she hadn't shifted in years. Before she knew it, she was standing tall and human in a dusty room scattered with wooden crates and furniture covered with white sheets. 

She had been put in storage. 

"Woah, you did it," one of the girls exclaimed. 

Sarah spun around to see her home lying on the ground behind her. She bent down and picked it up, nursing the pink and gold trap, careful of its sharp edges. With a smile she hurled the entire object at the stone wall, watching it with glee as it shattered into dust and glitter. The girls gasped, reminding her of their presence. 

She felt something cold lying in her hand. Sarah looked down to see a shard of glass lying in her palm. It was triangular in shape with one end sharp and pointy like a dagger. Her smile stretched wider; her mania and anger would find release. She turned slowly back around to the two children who watched her with wide eyes. 

Sarah grinned at both of them. She clapped her hands as she cackled. "Want to play a game?" 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sarah meandered through the castle, humming quietly to herself. It was night time so the castle would be asleep. The girls had admitted they had snuck out of bed to do forbidden magic; they wanted to practice bringing inanimate objects to life. They got more than they bargained with from using their magic on her. 

A Goblin scurried by and Sarah smiled wickedly at the small, dirty brute. He whimpered and lowered his head. 

"Queenie," he muttered before hurrying off. 

_ Interesting,  _ she thought as she moved more swiftly down the corridors. Outside the bedroom of her captors, she used the crystal she had asked the children to make for her. It silenced her entry. 

Inside, she tiptoed until she could see both of them asleep in their bed. Sarah grinned again. She pushed her matted brown hair behind her ears and tapped the shard of glass thoughtfully against her finger. 

From a fold in her dress, she gathered two more crystals. One for each Goblin monarch to make them immobile. 

* * *

Sarah wiped the blood off the end of the glass onto her rotting, once white dress as she leaned over Jareth. She bent over and kissed him on the lips before she placed the sharp tip of her glass blade against his jugular. 

She watched as his eyes popped open and awareness flooded them. 

"Sarah?" He asked, his voice husky from sleep. She saw him struggle to move but the magic held him tight. 

"Hello, Jareth." 

"What are —" 

"Shhhh." She pressed her finger against his lips. "You don't want to wake your wife. She is sleeping—oh dear." 

"What have you—" His eyes darted to his wife next to him. His eyes widened and his gasp came unhindered. 

Sarah cackled. "She appears to be dead, Jareth." 

His eyes narrowed and he visibly swallowed. "You killed my wife?" 

"Whoops." Sarah pressed the tip harder against his skin. "That was an unfortunate side effect of slitting her throat." 

"My childr—" He started but he stopped himself. 

"They were most helpful, Jareth." 

"Sarah." He closed his eyes. "Tell me you haven't harmed my children." 

"I think you shall go to your grave not knowing that information, Jareth." Sarah leaned closer to him. "This glass came from the cage you kept me in. This glass is symbolic of the madness that you caused. This glass was my death, as it will be yours. It's quite poetic." 

"Sarah," he pleaded, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. 

"You left me to rot." 

"I didn't mean—" 

"—Didn't mean to?" Sarah tsked. "What's done is done, Jareth. You know that." 

"You're not a murderer." 

"Am I not?" She gave him a faux puzzled look. "I don't know who I am anymore. I murdered your wife. I possibly murdered your beautiful twin girls. I think it is safe to say, I am now a murderer. I barely remember my own name but I know I am a murderer." 

"Sarah, your name is Sarah," he croaked. "The Champion of my Labyrinth." 

"Champion?" she mused. "Yes. The Champion of the Labyrinth gains revenge on her captor and tormentor; the Great and Cruel Goblin King. I like it." 

"Do you plan on killing me too?" He asked. "You don't have to, Sarah. You could marry me, be my Queen—"

"I will not marry you." 

"I could send you home." 

"There is no going back after what you've done to me." She pressed the glass harder against his throat, watching as the skin rippled away from the sharp point. 

"So you mean to kill me after all I could offer you?"

"Well, unless you would prefer to be the one dancing for eternity inside a little glass jar?" 

He blinked but clamped his lips tightly shut. 

"Your death is a compassionate alternative, Goblin King." 

"Sarah, I am—" 

She grinned, licked her lips and chuckled. "Aren't I generous?" 

"—sorry." 

Sarah rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet laughing a high, fruity, almost girlish laugh. "Sorry? Who knew you had such a sense of humour?" 

"I just wanted to keep you forever," he muttered. "I love you, Sarah." 

"Love isn't a cage," She screeched. "Love doesn't forget you and leave you to rot." 

"I could say the same for you, Sarah," he growled. "I asked you so many times to love me, and you left  _ me  _ to rot without your love—" 

"But you had my fear and you left me no choice but to do as you said." 

"I made" —he exhaled loudly—"a mistake."

"One that will cost you your family and your own life, not to mention my freedom, my autonomy and my sanity." 

"My girls—" 

"If I have murdered them, would it comfort you to know their blood is on your hands?" Sarah sliced the glass lightly down the line of his throat until beads of blood dripped down his milky white neck. Sarah licked her lips as he winced. "You will never know the truth." 

"Precious—" 

"Precious?" Sarah mulled that word over in her mind. "No, I think not. But then you were not so precious to your achingly beautiful wife either. She took many a-lover to bed with her, aside from you. Tell me, were you faithful to her?" 

Sarah could see the lines of his face deepen and his pallid skin blanched further. 

"You didn't know, did you?" Sarah crowed. "You made me witness you fucking lovers every night, but you didn't stop to consider that I would also see who your wife fucked too?" 

"I was faithful to her, as I would have been to you," he spat, the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes found enough purchase to leak down his cheeks. Sarah felt no sympathy; only delight. "I had no choice but to marry. I was as trapped as you were." 

"Oh, dear." Sarah clamped her free hand over her mouth. "Does the evil villain have feelings?"

Jareth surprised her when his face suddenly cracked into a malicious smile. 

"You have spent years fantasising about murdering me, haven't you, Precious?" His grin widened, reflecting her own mania. "And it is all playing out how you want it to. How convenient. How are you even sure this is your reality?" 

Sarah ground her teeth. It was just like him to make her doubt the nature of her reality. 

"The tears are a nice touch too, aren't they?" He asked, sardonically. 

It felt real, but he was right. She had daydreamed and plotted for so many years, how could she be certain he was lying or telling the truth? It had all played out too conveniently. It would be too satisfying to see him cry. 

"If it isn't real, then there will be no harm in killing you as I intend." 

"And then what?" He was once again the demanding Goblin King of her history and less the pleading father he was moments before. "You will spend the rest of your life guilt-stricken and in a prison for regicide." 

Sarah shrugged. "You took my life away from me. You killed me that day you asked me to dance with you. Now, I will repay the favour. Dance for eternity in Hell, Jareth." 

She leaned her cheek against his as she placed her lips close to his ear. "I shall be the Queen that you wanted me to be. You should be proud, Jareth." 

* * *

All over the Goblin Kingdom, a battle cry could be heard that was both victorious and agonisingly beautiful. The Goblins cowered where they were in fear of what that cry meant for their kingdom. 

* * *

  
  


A music box dancer, destined to dance for eternity in an endless loop, can only see what they face. Their perspective can only change with the winding of a key. They are at the mercy of their master. 

If their master never turns their key, can they even be called a dancer? What do they dream of as they spin around in their eternal circle? Moreso, what do they dream about when they aren't moving, covered in the wispy dust of time and propped against the fractured pane of glass of their jail? 

The End. 

**Author's Note:**

> There you go. Let me know your thoughts. 
> 
> Do you think she murdered him, or do you think it was all in her head? Or if it wasn't in her head, do you think she went through with it? Or was that victory yell Jareth's as he fought the magic she tied him down with? 
> 
> Also I couldn't bring myself to write child murder so I have left that ambiguous as well. 
> 
> I will be writing the fluffiest piece of fluff to get this out of my system LOL. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
